


(Preparation for) A Night to Remember

by TheEntireFangirl



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: "platonic" physical touch, (aka marinette has to alter chat's suit for him and takes his measurements in order to do that), Canon Divergent, F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marichat, More Tags to be added as I go, Pining, Post Season 3, Screen Reader Friendly, Yearning, adrienette - Freeform, ask to tag triggers (as of right now i don't know of any), if the dramatic irony doesn't kill you then the fluff will, ladrien
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-27 19:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30127686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEntireFangirl/pseuds/TheEntireFangirl
Summary: Ladybug and Chat Noir have been invited to a gala in their honor by the mayor of Paris. They can't decline because what type of message would that send about their relationship to the politicians of the city? Instead, they have to make it work, whatever that takes.Chat Noir has to ask the only person he knows who can sew to adjust his suit for the event: Marinette. In the process, she takes it upon herself to become his stylist, even offering to make him clothes so he looks nice.Ladybug only knows one person who understands high society: Adrien Agreste. She has to ask him for help on what to do and how to behave, just so she doesn't offend an important politician or wealthy resident.With a limited amount of time and a lot of Parisians they need to impress, what will come of this panicking super-pair?
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 9
Kudos: 87





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [ladybug shocked by chat's decorum](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/778872) by aerequets. 



“I am hereby extending an invitation to Ladybug and Chat Noir to join me at a gala in your honor. If you choose to accept, please contact me in person at my office. This city owes you nothing but gratitude and this is a small favor we can do to repay it.”

Ladybug closed her yoyo as the Mayor’s speech came to an end and shoved her head in her fingers, coming dangerously close over the edge of the Eiffel Tower.

“What’s wrong, Bugaboo? This sounds fun!”

She turned her head toward Chat, still leaning her cheek on one hand. “What’s wrong? We have to accept! We’ll look terrible if we don’t!”

“Still not seeing the problem.” He reached his hand out behind her, softly patting her on the back. She dug her eyes in her hands.

“I do _not_ want to deal with this right now,” she said. “I already have so much on my plate.”

“Come on,” he said. “We have to do it either way, we might as well have fun with it. Come on! We’ll get to wear fancy clothes and lie about our identities all night! Maybe I can even teach you to dance.”

He stood up beside her and she craned her neck to look at him, back still hunched over. His hand was extended down to her in an invitation—he meant right now.

“That sounds like a recipe for me falling off the Eiffel Tower.”

“If that happens, I’ll catch you. Come on.”

She rolled her eyes and stayed put. “We should figure out what this means logistically.”

Chat sat down next to her again. “Practical as ever, Milady.”

“We need outfits that will fit over our suits. That’s not a problem for me, but your suit is more... _decorated_ than mine.”

“Why do I feel like you’re using that word as an insult?”

She smiled at him and giggled, but he just smiled back, that crooked grin.

“Can you get a formal outfit to go over your suit?” she asked.

“That’ll be no problem. People like the way I look in suits so much that they give me them for free.”

She rolled her eyes, but he wouldn’t have said yes if he didn’t mean it.

“We both need to learn proper etiquette for situations like this. We can’t afford to offend a politician.”

“Also not a problem. I don’t need a lucky charm to make old, boring people fawn over me.”

“ _Chaaaat._ ”

“Okay, okay. I promise that I’ll learn about it so I won’t have any problems.”

“Thank you.” She tried to wrap her head around what else — she was lucky enough to have a few dresses ready, at least one she was sure would work, but she figured she could get something together by whenever the gala was, unless it was tomorrow. Probably safer, because her family had seen the other dresses and they were all one of a kind.

Ladybug was more worried about whether she could keep up with the elite of the city with their unspoken rules and hard-to-read body language.

“It’ll be fine,” Chat promised her. “You have nothing to worry about. Besides, if you offend one of the political elites, what will they do? Tell you to stop defending Paris?”

She couldn’t find it in her to smile, or react at all, for that matter.

“We should get to bed for the night. We’ll respond to the mayor in the morning.”

She stood up, and Chat Noir followed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Milady,” he offered with a smile.

“Bug out!” Throwing her yoyo, Ladybug flew off the platform.

* * *

Despite what she said to Chat, Marinette didn’t go to bed once she got home. She needed to start putting together a dress for the gala, something formal that would look good with her suit — not an easy task for her.

She didn’t want to stress too much, though — for now she could just decide on fabrics to work with, and whether she’d have a long dress or a short one, and get a few sketches down.

After she’d collected all of her fabrics, though, she heard a knocking on her skylight.

Familiar green eyes were peering through it when she looked up.

“Chat Noir!” she said as she opened the window. “What are you doing here?”

“I need your help,” he said. He was quite literally on his knees, hands clasped together, though he still loomed over her. “Please.” A bag hung down, hanging around his elbow.

At another time, she might have said no, but he genuinely seemed in need of help.

“Get in here,” she said. “And quiet. My parents are sleeping.”

Chat landed gracefully on the floor as she climbed down the ladder.

“What do you need?” she asked.

He glanced over at the fabrics she had spread out but quickly looked back at her face. _Oops_ , she thought. _I should have put those away._

“Ladybug and I got invited to this fancy gala,” he explained, his words going fast. “And I have a suit to wear for it but I tried putting it on over my supersuit and it looks weird because it can’t really go into the boots and it gets scruffy because of my wrist cuffs and I can’t tie the bowtie with my bell in the way and—”

 _He needs a tailor_.

“Calm down,” she said. “If you already have the suit, then I can help you. It may take a few days, though.”

He sighed. “Thank you. I promised Ladybug I had a suit and I don’t want to let her down.”

Marinette turned away to smile a little, thankful at her partner for how seriously he was taking it — but whether or not he would brush up on his etiquette was another matter. Not the time right now, she supposed.

“That’s the suit?” she asked, pointing to the bag hanging off his arm.

He nodded.

“Put it on. I’ll see what I’m dealing with from there.”

She turned around and began to clean up the red and black fabrics all over her desk while he put on the suit over his supersuit. Though it wasn’t like he was undressing, it still felt invasive to look at him while he did it — and she needed to clear this off, anyway.

“What are you working on?” he asked as she rolled up the bundles.

“Just a little side project,” she answered. Not a lie. She just hoped he wouldn’t put two and two together — not that it was too obvious, but the risk was there.

As she rolled up the last of the fabrics, he said, “Done!”

She turned to him to see that he wore an immaculate, beautiful suit — some of the best handiwork she’d ever seen. The entire image was somewhat marred by the wrinkles the suit must have picked up in the bag, but she couldn’t help but walk over and examine it.

“How did you get your hands on such an expensive suit?” she asked, standing in front of him and grabbing the jacket. Double breasted, lined with a fine wine-colored silk. The needlework was more precise than she’d ever done, but after a moment of examination, she realized it was hand stitched.

“Not allowed to say,” he answered. True enough, but still, she wanted to know.

The white dress shirt beneath the suit jacket was just as nice, if not a bit less stunning. Marinette subconsciously rubbed her hand over what felt like the pure cotton, then turned her attention toward the buttons — they weren’t plastic, but rather shell, or horn, or some other crazy expensive material she’d never had the privilege of using before.

“Uh... are you gonna look at the problem areas?”

She looked up to Chat and realized how close to him she was standing. Backing up and clearing her throat, she nodded.

“What did you say needed work?” she asked.

“The sleeves,” he answered, holding out his hand for her. “And the pants.”

He was right — because of the wrist cuffs on his suit, the arms were a bit too long, the pants running into a similar problem on the boot cuffs. Either he could fold the fabric or bunch it up, neither of which would look very good.

“Okay,” she said. “I—Anything I do to this suit won’t be nearly as well done as the suit is right now. You’re sure that’s okay?”

“I’m _pawsitive_ , princess.” He flashed a crooked grin at her, the same one he’d given Ladybug earlier that night. Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Okay. It won’t be too hard, I’ll just cut the arms and legs a few inches and sew a new hem. I can have that ready by tomorrow...”

“I’m sensing a but.”

“But your outfit will be a bit atrocious if that’s all I change.”

He crossed his hand over his chest, throwing his body back in mock pain. “Princess, you wound me!”

She rolled her eyes and walked behind him, helping him shrug off the jacket. “You have a black and white aesthetic with just a _little_ bit of green, but it’s enough green to make the entire thing look weird.”

“What else should I do?” he asked.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.” Jacket carefully strung over her arm, she walked circles around him. “First of all, do you have a black dress shirt instead of a white one?”

He nodded, turning his head to look at her even as she made her way back behind him.

“Bring that with you tomorrow. And do you have any waistcoats?”

“A black one,” he answered.

She nodded. “Okay, that won’t really add anything to the look. I’m thinking a green one might be better.” Going over to her closet where all of her fabrics were buried, she started sifting through with one arm, the other delicately protecting the jacket. “Ha! Here it is. I have a roll of green silk.”

Carefully, she draped the jacket over her mannequin. It wouldn’t work well for making his waistcoat since it was bought specifically for her, but it would work well enough for this. Stepping back up to him, she grabbed his right hand, comparing the color of the silk to the color of the paw on the rings.

“Perfect,” she whispered. The colors weren’t exact matches, but she didn’t have money to buy more fabric, and that would only be if she could find it.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“I am going to make you a waistcoat,” she answered.

“You don’t have to do that.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have to do anything. Come on, I rarely get to make men’s clothes unless it’s knitting a sweater for my dad, and waistcoats are like four pieces of fabric. Maybe three if I can get it right. Please?”

He sighed. “Okay, but I’m paying you back.”

“If you do that, I’ll find a way to tell Ladybug you did this.”

His eyes went wide with fear. “You wouldn’t!”

“I would.”

Again, he sighed. “ _Fiiiine_.”

Marinette smiled. “Finally, I can give you a sense of style!”

She turned away even though she wanted desperately to see the offended look on his face.

“Take off your dress shirt,” she told him, grabbing a tape measure and a pad of paper.

“Uh, I can just tell you my measurements tomorrow.”

“I doubt you’ll have all the ones that I need. Come on, this is easier.”

Sighing, he slowly began to unbutton the dress shirt. It felt oddly intimate to watch him doing it, even though beneath that was his supersuit.

She took the shirt once he had it unbuttoned and put it with the jacket on her mannequin, then joined him where he stood in the middle of the room. He put his arms out, ready for her to take the measurements around his torso.

“Arms down,” she told him. “I go from the top down.”

Immediately, his arms fell.

“Have you done this before?” she asked as she measured around his neck.

The measuring tape shifted and she caught his Adam’s apple bobbing out of the corner of her eye. “No.”

She doubted that, given how well the suit fit him and how ready he was to be measured, but it was a reasonable lie for his identity.

Writing down the measurement in her notebook, she let the silence linger for a moment.

“Relax your shoulders,” she told him. Immediately, his broad back became a few inches wider, the shoulder themselves sloping down at a steeper angle. She took the width of his shoulders — probably not necessary for a waistcoat, but better to be thorough than have to do this again tomorrow, and she was a creature of habit.

“Why are you so tense?” she asked.

“I’ve never done this before.” The lie was quick, but she recognized it for what it was — he had to have been measured when that suit was made, and then he’d probably been mostly nude. Now he was just as dressed as any other time, and he was never afraid of a little contact with Ladybug — or any of the temporary Miraculous holders, for that matter.

“Are you excited to go to this gala?” she asked as she moved on to measuring his sleeve length, turning his palm outward.

“Uh, yeah,” he answered, his voice a bit louder — not loud, just louder. “I think it’ll be good for me and Ladybug. She’s always so tense, and I know she’s gonna freak out about this and how we look to the elite of the city, but hopefully we can have a little bit of fun.”

Marinette began working on autopilot, walking back to her journal to write the measurement down, but when she got there she realized that she’d forgotten to take note of the number.

“Sorry,” she said, coming back to him. “I need to repeat that.”

He just laughed and held out his arm again. “No problem.”

Focusing on the measurement so she wouldn’t forget it, she wrote it down in her notebook before she said anything else.

She measured the length of the shirt, sure she’d have to discard the measurement, but it was useful information to know.

“I hope she’ll let loose a little,” he continued, and Marinette realized he was still thinking about Ladybug. “She probably wouldn’t appreciate me talking about her like this. Sorry, I’ll stop.”

“No,” Marinette said instinctively, holding the measuring tape pressed against his back. “You — I don’t mind.”

Chat let out a breathy chuckle.

“Nah, I’m done. I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to me talk about Ladybug.”

“Better things to do like take your measurements?”

“Mmm. That’s a fair criticism of what I said.”

Still, he didn’t pick up the subject again.

Next was the measurement of his bicep, a measurement which felt absolutely dumb to do but still, she did it, then was his chest.

Suddenly, she was in front of him again, standing right next to his chest. When did he get so much taller than her? It felt like only yesterday they were just meeting, still the same height.

“How do I measure up compared to the other boys you make waistcoats for?”

She rolled her eyes. “You have the biggest biceps of them all, O Powerful Chat Noir. Thank you for gracing this city with your manliness and sheer muscles.”

He lifted up his muscle and kissed it. “I knew I was special.”

She laughed and lightly hit his chest, too distracted to take his measurements. “Stand still,” she told him between giggles.

By the time she calmed down enough to take the measurement, he’d relaxed again, positioning the measuring tape across his chest for her — further confirming her suspicions that he’d done this before. Several times, probably.

“One last one,” she said, scooting the measuring tape down. “Then I’ll let you go.”

“As if you could get rid of me,” he said. She felt his warm breath on her forehead.

Letting the measuring tape drop, she backed away quickly, not giving any room to make eye contact, writing down the last two measurements quickly.

“Welp, you’re free to go. And I gotta hit the hay, so, bye, see you tomorrow!” She wasn’t sure quite why she was so eager to get him out of there, but she knew she needed to be alone.

Chat scurried up the ladder and out her skylight.

“Thank you, Marinette,” he said, his head poking through the hole and hair falling downward. “This means everything to me.”

He shut the skylight and she stood there for another moment.

Before Tikki could harass her about what just happened, she got ready for bed and laid down.

Best to think about the events of the night after a full night’s sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this then you'll HIGHLY enjoy the work it was based on, a [comic by @aerequets on tumblr and instagram](https://aerequets.tumblr.com/post/645940110298382336/i-am-an-absolute-sucker-for-the-ladybug-shocked?is_highlighted_post=1). She's an incredible artist so please check her out and give her work some love!
> 
> The Ladynoir is coming, I promise.... I wasn't intending to do so much Marichat but it happens sometimes. Ladrien is also on its way. I'm not sure exactly what type of ending this will entail and I have no idea how long it will be but I am having FUN writing this.


	2. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladrien stans come get yall juice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay two things:
> 
> 1\. All of the rules of etiquette I'm writing about in this chapter were learned by way of research from dubious sources (mostly blogs of people I've never heard of) so if anything's wrong you can tell me but chances are I don't care.  
> 2\. I talk a little bit about sewing/fashion/tailoring in this chapter and I'd like to let it be known that I'm not actually knowledgeable about fashion, everything I know about it I've learned from Micarah Tewers on YouTube. You can tell me if something's wrong in what I say and I may or may not change it but I'm fairly certain I've properly guessed how bringing in a hem would work.

Chat arrived on the top of the Eiffel Tower early the next day, but not before Ladybug. Odd — usually she was the late one.

“Hello Milady,” he said as he landed next to her.

“Chat.” No greeting, no pleasantries, just wringing her fingers and staring off toward the Hôtel de Ville, where the mayor works. “Let’s get this over with.”

“It’ll be okay,” he told her, stepping up so his shoulder brushed hers. “It’s just the mayor. We’ve talked to him before.” _Besides_ , he thought, _I’ve seen him get bullied into spending thousands of dollars by a teenage girl. He’s a pushover at the best of times._

“Of course,” she responded, glancing over to him, her eyes alert but her brow furrowed.

They jumped off the ledge without saying anything else and Chat Noir prepared to take charge of what was going on. Clearly, she was nervous.

Landing about ten meters from the entrance of the building, they walked up to the door and stood in front of it together.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Yep,” she lied.

He pushed the door open and walked in.

They were greeted first by a secretary in the main area who pointed them down the hall to the mayor’s office, no questions asked. Chat knew his way around relatively well — this was one of the few places he and Chloe had gotten to play when they were kids.

Making their way into the office, they were greeted by another secretary of sorts when they got into the office.

A plague sat in front of them which read _Harvey Dufour, Assistant_. They sat on the phone, clearly caught up in something.

“It just — the mayor does not have time right now. I can add your complaint to the schedule, but he won’t be clear for the next several weeks. Please — No — I — Ma’am, if you aren’t going to listen to me, you won’t get a meeting with the mayor at all.”

Murmurs could be over the phone, louder than they should be. Clearly whoever was on the other line felt frustrated.

“I — I have to speak with other people. I’ll call you back later. Goodbye.”

Ladybug made eye contact with Chat over her shoulder, the top of her mask raised in shock and possibly worry.

“So sorry,” Harvey said to them, standing up to shake their hands. “You’re here to talk about the gala the mayor wants to host for you, aren’t you? I’ll make sure nothing too important is happening and send you in.”

Ladybug’s hand didn’t fall even once the handshake was over. “If he’s too busy right now, we can come back later...”

“Nonsense!” Harvey said, vigorously shaking Chat’s hand. “I have specific instructions to let the mayor see you as soon as possible.” With a bit less enthusiasm, he added, “Besides, it’s not like he’ll be free any time soon.”

They walked over to the door and knocked on it, ducking their head in and whispering something. When they came back out, they smiled.

“It’ll be just a minute,” they said.

Chat walked around the office, looking at the various knick knacks around the place. It was the same as when he was a kid, all glammed up with signed pictures of celebrities and proof of the mayor’s competence. Names and faces were all different, but the message was the same.

“So, how are you doing?” Chat asked, looking at a signed picture of Chloe. He decided to move on rather than put any thought into it.

“Me?” Harvey asked.

Chat looked at them, nodding enthusiastically.

They had ginger hair and tan skin, glasses and a rumpled dress shirt.

“I’m fine,” they answered, an edge to their voice. “How are you?”

“Good,” he answered easily. Normally he might make a joke or pun, but something in him needed to prove to Ladybug that he could be appropriate around people they needed to impress — she wouldn’t doubt it if she knew his identity, but until that day came, he would have to rebrand himself.

Though she wasn’t exactly paying attention. She’d taken a seat at the chairs for people waiting, looking down at her hands in her lap. He stood next to her chair, hoping Harvey wouldn’t notice her panic.

The door to the mayor’s office opened and Andre poked his head through. “Hello!” he said, his voice jolly — a high-pitched Santa Claus. “We can discuss this privately in my office.”

Chat gently tapped Ladybug’s shoulders and waited for her to stand before walking into the office.

The office was relatively simple, the walls beige with sunlight filtering in through the shades. Two chairs sat in front of the desk, which Chat sat down in just before Ladybug could.

“Hello,” Chat said to the mayor, extending his hand over the desk for a handshake. “It’s a pleasure to be invited here.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he replied. “How are you today?”

“Splendid, splendid.” He glanced at Ladybug but said nothing. “I hope Harvey treated you well?”

“Yes, they’re a fine assistant.”

“He can be quite short at times, but yes, he does get the job done.”

Chat smiled but remained silent. Hopefully Ladybug wouldn’t take this as being rude — he simply knew the best course of action was to let the mayor bring up the gala, and he had nothing else to talk about.

“I assume you received my invitation for the gala? That must be why you’re here,” he said.

“Uh, yes,” Ladybug replied. “We would be honored to accept.”

“Perfect! I’ve been organizing an event like this for some time, I just hoping you’d say yes. Now, will the eighteenth work for you?”

Chat looked to his partner in time to see her face pale. “That’s in two weeks,” she stated, looking at the surface of the desk in front of him.

“I know it’s short notice, but you know how busy things can get. It won’t be anything too fancy, no need to buy a new outfit or anything — whatever formal wear you have on hand will work.”

Though Chat wasn’t worried about his own outfit, he had absolutely no idea how many high society events Ladybug had attended in her life and that she would present no less than herself than the best.

“If it would be at all possible, we really do need more time than that,” Chat said.

Andre frowned. “I’m sure I can make it work, but the event really was hinged on it happening on the eighteenth.”

“I — Mayor Bourgeoise, all respect to you, but we need more time.”

“No,” Ladybug said. “We can make it work. The eighteenth will be fine.”

Chat turned his head toward her. “You don’t have to,” he whispered.

“It’ll be fine,” she said. “We’ll see you on the eighteenth.”

“Wonderful!” the mayor said. “I have your invitations to it written down right here — ah! Here they are!” He handed them both two folded cards with personalized calligraphy.

 _He’s had this planned for months_ , Chat thought. _He did this to trap up into coming. If we decline, we’ll seem rude._

Still, he accepted the card and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“We really should go now, though. We’ll see you soon!” Chat said, standing up and tapping on Ladybug’s shoulder again. She joined him as he began to walk out the door and though he waited for a _Bug out!_ , none came.

They scurried out of the building and Ladybug left abruptly with a mumbled goodbye.

 _Time to get home then_ , Chat thought, only a twinge of disappointment.

* * *

“Marinette, this is crazy,” Tikki said as she organized all her stuff. She couldn’t be sure when Chat would stop by that night, so she needed to make sure everything was clean in case she got there later than him.

“Any crazier than Chat coming to me for help with his suit?”

The kwami didn’t say anything else.

She’d spent the day at school putting down designs for her dress, but now she needed to get it made _quickly_. Not an impossible task, but between learning proper etiquette and helping Chat, she wouldn’t have any free time in the next two weeks.

“Okay, Tikki. Spots on!”

* * *

Adrien planned on spending the afternoon practicing piano and Mandarin since he didn’t exactly have anything better to do until he had to visit Marinette that night.

Just as he sat down to start on a new Chopin piece he was learning, though, he heard a knock on his window.

To his surprise, Ladybug was there.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as he threw open the window.

“Uh — I kinda have a favor to ask.”

“Come in, come in,” he said, closing the window behind her then going to his door to make sure it was locked. It usually was, but better safe than sorry.

“What do you need?” he asked, pushing his hair out of the way.

“Uh, well, I need help.”

 _Does she want me to use the Snake Miraculous?_ he thought. _I was one of the only people whose identity wasn’t compromised... What if she asks why that is? I’ll have to lie._

“What do you need?”

“I need you to help me blend into high society.”

He’d been so caught up for a moment with the idea of saving the world that he hardly even considered the gala.

“Um, what for?” Obviously he knew. She didn’t know that, though.

He walked over to his couch and gestured for her to sit down, too. Slowly, carefully, on the opposite side, she did.

“I — _Chat Noir and_ I got invited to this gala in our honor. We don’t have very much time, and I don’t know anything about the people who will be there or how to behave around them. What if I mess up or say something wrong? I can’t afford to do that.”

“Of course I’ll help you,” he said, leaning toward her. “What, you think I can say no to Paris’s finest?” He meant it lighthearted, but guilt only seemed to set in further on her face and she looked at her lap.

Adrien let out a laugh to let her know it was okay and he was joking. Her eyes peered up and finally, she cracked a smile.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re a lifesaver. I don’t know how I could repay you.”

Adrien cast his next few thoughts out of his head.

This wasn’t all too different from Chat Noir asking Marinette for help, was it? Funny coincidence that Ladybug would pick him of all people, but it’s not like many teenagers grew up attending formal events and business dinners.

“What do you need to know?” he asked, mostly because he was unsure of where to start.

“I don’t know.” Ladybug looked out the window, a crease in her mask where her brow would be. “This is such foreign territory to me.”

He sighed. “Okay, then. Let’s start with a walkthrough of the basic evening. What do you think will happen?”

Ladybug’s face went red as he waited for an answer. “Uh — Dinner? Then dancing, maybe?”

He decided not to make eye contact with her, since she was clearly embarrassed enough as it was.

“You’re kinda right,” he said, looking over the back of the couch. Plagg was laying face-down on his pillow — dramatic little beast. “The night will probably start with a dinner. Since you’re the guest of honor, you’ll probably be seated next to the mayor.” He realized only then that she’d never told him who would be hosting, but better not to call attention to that.

“With Chat Noir?” she asked.

He sucked in a breath. “I don’t know,” he answered. “But... they tend to break up couples so they can mingle. Or partners, in your case. Seating is a strategic decision.”

Ladybug stood up and began to pace through the room. “Oh gosh. I don’t know how I’m gonna do this without Chat Noir.”

She was already behind the couch, or else she might have seen Adrien’s face go red.

He stood up to join her, hopefully calm her down. “You’ll be great,” he promised as she turned the corner back around his sofa and met his face. “You still have time to learn all this stuff.”

Letting out a breath, she fell back onto her spot on the couch. “Okay,” she said. “What’s after the meal?”

“Mingling, probably,” he said. “Possibly dancing, but you won’t have to dance if you don’t want to. A few speeches here and there.”

Her face paled. “Will _I_ have to give a speech?”

“Probably.” Though Chat Noir could, just as easily.

Adrien would prepare something just in case.

“This is gonna go terribly.”

“I sincerely doubt that. Come on, what are you anxious about?”

“What if I offend someone?”

He rolled his eyes but was sure to keep a smile on his face. “Don’t talk religion or politics and you’ll be fine.”

“I shouldn’t talk politics? But the mayor’s hosting it!”

“And he’s probably gonna invite a bunch of political opponents. This is all for show.”

“What _should_ I talk about?”

“My mom used to always ask about travel. When you’re in a room of stuffy rich people, it can’t offend anyone, and it’s enough to spark hours of conversation.”

Ladybug let out a long groan and threw her head over the back of the couch.

“Okay, you’re clearly stressed. You shouldn’t just sit there. Why don’t I try to teach you to dance?”

He stood up and held his hand out to her.

“No, no no no no. I can _not_ dance.”

“You’re not gonna hurt my feelings if you step on my toes.”

“Adrien —”

“Come on. It’s better to know it in case you end up being asked to dance by some prince charming than it would be to get asked to dance and have no idea what to do.”

She met his eyes and he offered her a kind smile. “We can talk about everything else while I teach you.”

Her shoulders relaxed and she took his hand, letting him pull her up. The motion was familiar, something Chat had been allowed to do many times before — he wondered if something in her remembered the motion, too.

He grabbed his phone and played the Chopin that he’d been learning — Opus 34, number 2, in A minor.

“This,” he said, “is a waltz.”

“The dance?”

“Well, yes. But a waltz is really a type of song. It’s just a fancy way of saying that you use three beats to count it, not four, like most music,” he said. “So you have to count. One-two-three-one-two-three. Can you keep up with that?”

She kept up the beat under her breath, counting to the song well. He carefully grabbed her hand, lifting it up and putting his other hand around her waist. She put her other hand on his shoulder.

“Do you know anything about music?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“You’re doing good,” he told her, completely honest.

She made eye contact but kept up with her chant.

“A waltz is easy. For every beat, you take a step. The trick is being in sync with your partner. Your feet have to move the same amount every time, or else you’ll start to look off.”

“So you’re saying that any practice I do with you will be wasted?” she asked, breaking her chant.

 _Hopefully not_ , he thought. “Of course not,” he answered. “Getting in sync with a partner who knows what they’re doing takes a few minutes at most.”

“Okay, dance boy,” she said. “Show me what to do.”

He moved his leg back. “Follow my lead,” he answered.

Step by step, not quite in sync with the music, they started going in circles around the little space in his room.

“So, how was your day?” he asked.

She took a breath through her nose. “I don’t know if I should tell you...”

“Come on, do you think I’ll track you down because you say you had a good day?”

She looked in his eyes, hers a little bit more dull than usual. Adrien suspected that had she not been wearing a mask, he’d see bags under them.

“To be honest, my day was... Ugh.” She said it with genuine disdain for what had happened, but afterward, she broke into a fit of giggles, her legs still moving with his in the waltz. “This gala thing is super stressing me out, and I have so much of my own life to maintain — school and hobbies and friends and just. Ugh.”

He laughed with her. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little.”

“What else can I do to make it better?”

“Make this gala go away.”

 _But then you’ll never dance with Chat_ , he thought, and then he cast it away. What a selfish thing to think. If he could make it go away, he would in an instant.

“I can’t do that,” she said. “But I can help you with things you need to know.”

“I don’t _know_ what I need to know. I don’t know anything.”

“Then I can make flashcards for things I think you should know, and you can ask me questions.”

For the first time, her step faltered and she ended up stepping on his toe. “Sorry!” she squealed. “I told you — I — I’m so clumsy!”

He backed up a step and smiled in an attempt to make her a bit less guilty. “It’s okay,” he said. “Like I said, I don’t get hurt feelings every time I get hurt toes.” Her brow didn’t unfurrow, though. “What happened there?” he asked. “You were doing so well.”

Her lips pursed. “Would you really make me flashcards?”

“Of course!” he proclaimed. “You — You save my life every day. It’s the least I could do.”

He meant every word. Her face went red and Adrien realized just how little she allowed herself to stick around long enough for people to praise her — maybe that was why.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“I think you’re a lot better at dancing than you give yourself credit for. Just can’t overthink it.”

She took a breath and walked over to the couch, sitting back in her spot. “You’re too kind.”

He sat down next to her. “Am I?” Getting dangerously close to Chat there. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Plagg buzzing around — bugger.

“Well — I have one more thing to ask.”

“Yes?”

“Can you make two sets of flashcards? One for Chat?”

Something in him cringed, but he said, “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

He sensed that she was about to leave, and something in him wanted to call out, _Stay. I’ll be here all day, and I enjoy your company so much, and even if we aren’t doing anything I want to be near you. Stay._

“Well, I better head out,” she said, standing up. “I have things to do. I’ll be back tomorrow for the flashcards?”

“And to brush up on your waltzing,” he said, half as a joke. The other half didn’t even care about the dance, he just wanted to be with her, be near her. “You’re not getting off the hook on one day of lessons.”

She smiled. “I look forward to it.”

He stood up and guided her to the window, waiting as she climbed through.

Sitting on the windowsill with her yoyo readied, Ladybug turned to Adrien one last time.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile

Before he could respond, she was out.

* * *

Marinette got back to her room and laid in bed, a few minutes away from dying.

Something in her wanted to say that it couldn’t have gone any worse, but everything that happened couldn’t have gone any better.

“You need to work on your dress,” Tikki said as she buried her face in her pillow, an act of equal parts euphoria and embarrassment.

“I know!” she called, with no plans to remove the fabric from her face.

But ultimately, Tikki was right. She had two weeks to make a dress good enough for Ladybug. In those two weeks, she also had to fight akumas, make Chat a vest and alter his suit, learn how to blend in with high society, and keep up with school.

She sat up and went down to her work station, figuring out where to start.

The dress would come the closest to the deadline, no matter what, and she couldn’t exactly study her flashcards yet. 

Getting her design book out, she began the sketch.

It had to be elegant, which was difficult at best with her suit. But she couldn’t exactly take her suit off... could she?

She began work on the skirt. That part, at least, was easy.

Lots of layers, she decided. Go big or go home, right? On the top could be a sheer fabric, probably tulle, but she didn't have any on hand except some cheap polyester white tulle. She could use that for a petticoat, she supposed.

“I’ll have to buy some fabric,” she said to Tikki. “What do you think?”

“Are you making this in a red and black color scheme?”

She nodded to the kwami. “Mostly red, though. Black here and there, but not too much. I want to keep it simple.”

“How about a chiffon, then?” she suggested.

"I don't know if that'll have the draping effect I'm imagining."

"Then tulle will probably work best."

“Can you write that down?” Marinette asked.

The kwami complied.

They’d spent a lot of time together, Marinette bouncing ideas off the kwami and asking her to write stuff down in messy handwriting. (Apparently, she could write in perfect Mandarin calligraphy, but it had been so long since she’d been in China, she didn’t know the modern vernacular. Not that it mattered, since Marinette didn’t know _any_ Mandarin vernacular, modern or otherwise.)

Just as Marinette was about to get out fabric swatches, she heard a knock from her skylight.

She rolled her eyes and climbed up to open it, not stopping to say hi before she began to climb back down.

“What are you doing here so early, Chat?”

He jumped into the middle of her room. “I had nothing to do, so I thought, why not keep a lovely lady doing me a massive favor company?”

“I haven’t gotten any of the work done, so you’re out of luck.” She walked over to her mannequin, where his suit jacket was still draped.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked, grabbing his staff, already preparing.

She looked around the room. Her dress _did_ need to be worked on, but would it be better to finish up with his stuff so she could work on it without distractions?

“It’s fine,” she told him. “You can stay.”

“Pawsitively excellent, princess.”

She rolled her eyes as she turned the jacket inside out.

“So how do you do this?” he asked.

“It’s easy. Watch and learn.”

The first step was to remove the hem which had already been sewed with a seam ripper, which Chat watched her do at her desk in amazement.

“The sleeve is longer than it was before,” he said. “I’m afraid you’re not very good at this.” She glared at him to see a toothy grin.

“Ah, well, guess you’ll have to find a new tailor,” she said, putting down the seam ripper.

“Wait — Sorry! I didn’t mean it! Please keep working.”

She smirked at him. “Put it on,” she told him.

“Inside out?”

“Yep.”

He did as she asked, the silk lining of the suit visible from the outside.

“Now I just have to pin the sleeve to the right length, cut the excess, and sew a new hem,” she explained. His arm stayed still as a stone as she did it.

“You’re good at this,” he said.

“I’ve been doing it for a long time now. Honestly, adjustments are easy. My dad doesn’t have a shirt in his closet that hasn’t been hand-tailored.”

“Why fashion?” he asked. “You could do any type of art — why clothes?”

She thought for a moment, crouched down to his hand so she could make adjustments more easily, but not doing anything.

“Other types of art are a statement. They say something new — drawing and singing, it’s all there to be consumed on its own. But fashion exists in the world. It’s a response to something. If I’m making a dress for a party or a gift for a friend, I’m puzzling out how I want to respond to the world. I like the challenge.”

She resumed pinning the hem in place.

“So what’s your response to the gala?”

She pricked herself in the finger.

“What?” she asked, in disbelief at how he knew she was invited to the gala — how he knew she was Ladybug.

“You’re my personal stylist, so what type of response is my outfit?”

She took a breath and shook out her head before she began to consider.

“Um... Well, you’re mysterious. No one knows your identity, and no one’s allowed to, so you’re dressed all in black. Still, you’re fun and silly, so you’re still showing your cat ears and your bell. You’re still yourself, so I’m not trying to work against your normal supersuit, but with it.”

She looked up at his face to see him smiling down at her. “You’re good at this, Mari.”

Without a response, she finished up with pinning the sleeve.

“Now for the next sleeve. Then we’ll repeat this process with the pants.”

“That’s it?” he asked.

“Then I have to make the waistcoat, but yes, that’s it.”

He swayed a bit as she positioned herself at his other arm. “How long will the waistcoat take?”

“Depends how good I am at it. It’ll take four pieces of fabric, so the worst thing that’ll happen is that I have to remake it.”

“And you’re sure I can’t repay you?”

“ _Pawsitive._ ”

“Oh, you’re learning!”

She rolled her eyes but smiled as soon as he couldn’t see her face.

Even if Chat annoyed her at times, she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only now that I've written the chapter do a couple things occur to me:
> 
> 1\. I should not have locked myself into the "Day One," "Day Two," etc pattern because this chapter is way longer than I would normally do. I wanted to get it out WAY before I did but then it ended up being 4k words.  
> 2\. The power of this fic truly is that it puts them in situations where they defer to the personality of their other identity. Ladybug is anxious like Marinette, Chat is perception driven like Adrien, Marinette is confident and witty like Ladybug, and Adrien is more laid back like Chat. I feel it's important that you know this is entirely unintentional but that only makes me more of a genius.
> 
> Also... note that the Adrienette tag has been added <3


	3. Day Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know I said that Ladrien stans would get their juice last chapter but I've since decided that this is the true Ladrien juice

“Remember, this is time to work on your history essay, not free time to do whatever you want,” Miss Bustier called out to the class. When Adrien looked up, she was giving him a kind but clear warning glance.

He sighed and put away his papers, getting out the essay he’d sorely neglected since it was assigned three days ago.

“What were you working on anyway?” Nino asked beside him. He wasn’t doing anything on his essay either, but he’d been staring at it since the work time began.

“I’m brushing up on my gala etiquette for my father.”

He’d prepared the lie before he dared work on Ladybug’s flashcards in public at all. He didn’t have much time and he wanted to be as thorough as possible, if only for her peace of mind.

He became aware of Alya and Marinette having a conversation behind him.

“Why are you making a vest, girl?” Alya asked.

“It’s a waistcoat. And I’m brushing up on men’s formalwear — it’s not something I’ve done much of.”

Adrien smiled subtly and dipped his head down to his paper so no one could see.

“Ooh. Hey, Adrien, think you’d be willing to model this design for Marinette?”

“Alya, _no_ —”

The smile disappeared off his face and his eyes went wide. In another world, he’d say yes no questions asked, but this wasn’t another world, and he happened to know that it wasn’t just practice for men’s formalwear, it was a custom order from Paris’s finest. And it would coincidentally be tailored to his exact measurements.

He craned his neck to look at them, hopeful that his ears weren’t too red — he’d mostly gotten his blushing under control when he needed it, but his ears never seemed to cooperate. “Actually, I’m better at modelling casual looks. Thanks for the offer, though!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marinette red in the face, but he turned back to his essay before he could see her expression.

Again, the corners of his lips quirked up when no one could see his face.

* * *

“Hurry hurry hurry hurry hurry,” Marinette whispered as she ran home after school.

“What’s the rush?” Tikki asked.

“I’ve had an idea for my gala dress since ten AM, but I couldn’t draw it.”

Running up the stairs through the building, she was already drafting the sketch in her head.

“Marinette, I have plans for —”

“I can’t right now, Maman. I’ll talk at dinner, okay? Love you!”

The hatch closed beneath her and she let a breath loose.

“What’s this idea?” Tikki asked as Marinette made her way to her sketchbook.

“I was hesitant to do a tulle ball gown because it’s so basic, but I really didn’t have any ideas. But what if I don’t just do one tulle skirt, but three? Layered on top of each other?”

She began the sketch.

“What about the bodice?” Tikki asked.

She sighed but continued sketching. “That I don’t know. Whatever I do won’t look good with my suit, so should I even try? But impressions are everything. The skirt’s easy, because it’ll cover it up, but it’s not common to do both long sleeves and a high neckline, which is what it would take to cover the suit. The only style where it _is_ common is in hijabi dresses, which would be great for ideas, except the hijab covers the neckline, so I don’t know what type of neckline I could _do_ that would either cover the suit or blend with it, and I can’t imagine anything that would look good, and —”

Tikki landed on the drawing in front of her. “Slow down, Marinette. Panicking won’t help anything. Why don’t you figure out what you would do if there wasn’t a suit to worry about?”

She took a breath. “You’re right. But I should actually go visit Adrien — he’s probably got my flashcards ready by now, and I want to give Chat his when we patrol today, and then I need to get this waistcoat together.”

“You’re not going to panic over any of it, are you?” Tikki asked.

Marinette held her pinky out for Tikki to grab with her whole arm. “I promise I won’t.”

“Good.”

“Tikki, spots on!”

Ladybug bounded her way over the Paris rooftops toward the Agreste mansion, excited to see Adrien again, if nothing else.

There’d been a close call in class that day where Alya, ever the wingwoman, tried to get him to model something for Marinette. She’d been so relieved when he said no — but also oddly disappointed.

At least she would get to see him now, maybe even dance with him.

When she tapped on his window, he opened it for her, a smile already sat on his face.

“Hey,” he said, and they stood there, unsure of where to go. She almost wished she could be more like Chat — when he visited Marinette, he was comfortable, even standing in the middle of the room. Nothing awkward about it.

“Uh, I have the flashcards for you,” he said, walking over to the coffee table in front of his couch and picking up a packet of notecards. She joined him, grabbing them from his hand, their fingers brushing lightly.

“Thank you,” she said.

“There are two sets. One for you, one for Chat Noir.”

“You’re incredible.”

She folded them into the infinite pocket of her yoyo, and they stood in the empty spot near the open window. The only thing preventing an awkward silence was the breeze.

“Do you, uh, want to practice your waltzing?” he asked.

She almost said, _No, I should get these flashcards to Chat Noir so he can begin to study too._ Before she could, though, she met his eyes, the corners crinkling in a genuine smile. Before she said no, his hand was reaching out in an invitation, and before she could think about it, she was grabbing it.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket and played some music, all the while rubbing the side of Ladybug’s palm with his finger, seemingly subconsciously. She covered her mouth with her other hand while he was still distracted, hopeful that the bulk of her blush was hidden by her mask.

“You want to try real dancing today?” he asked as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

“Wha—What do you mean?”

“Like we _aren’t_ at a church retreat.”

Her face went red as he guided her hand up, grabbing around her shoulder blade rather than her waist — theoretically it was more casual, but they ended up face to face, close enough to feel each other’s breath — which meant he undoubtedly felt as her lungs faltered on her.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, and she meant it. “I was just surprised.”

“Sorry.”

She was about to respond, but then she stepped on his foot.

“Oh! I’m sorry!”

He just laughed. “Don’t be. I stepped on plenty of toes when I was learning to dance.”

Somehow, she doubted that.

They began the motions, the footwork the same as what they’d worked on the day before.

“A real waltz is a pretentious dance,” he told her. “It’s two people doing their best to make as little contact as possible while still moving in sync. It’s also very, very hard to do.”

“Really?” she asked. “I always imagined dance as this romantic, intimate process.”

They made eye contact for a moment before Ladybug realized what she said.

“Not — Not that —”

Adrien laughed before she could finish, and it reminded her of the first time she’d heard him laugh, when he gave her his umbrella and it closed over her head. “No, I know what you mean. And I think that’s what dancing started as, but then it got so corrupted and refined that it’s just become a way for rich people to brag about how great they are.”

“What’s your favorite dance?” she asked, curious. He knew a great deal more about this than her.

Their feet continued moving though, in circles around the room.

Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed and though his eyes were still pointed at Ladybug — her nose, specifically — he didn’t seem to be looking at her.

After a moment of dance and nothing else, he said, “Ballet.”

“Really?”

“My mom used to take me to see ballets all the time. _The Nutcracker_ every December, but also _La Bayadère_ , _Cinderella_ , _Romeo and Juliet_. My favorite was always _Swan Lake_ , though.”

“Why?”

Again, he thought for a moment. “I guess I like the idea that love goes on past death, and a vow can’t be broken just because of a single moment where you make a mistake.”

Ladybug stepped on his toe and she saw as his face flinched in response, but he quickly smiled to cover it up. She wondered if he was talking about Kagami, if dancing with her was the mistake he was referencing.

“I, uh, meant why do you like ballet so much?”

“Oh.” Again, silence for a moment while he thought. “It’s about trust. Other types of dance are about being in sync, but ballet is such a dramatic style, and when two people dance with each other, they have to trust the other will be there to catch them, or that their strength won’t give out, or that they’ll stay balanced throughout the entire motion. Anything less will end in the dance not happening.”

Her legs kept moving on autopilot, but Ladybug was absolutely lost in thought.

The song ended, but Ladybug only realized when Adrien stopped dancing.

“Is that enough for today?” he asked. “You can study the flashcards and come back tomorrow for me to quiz you or answer any questions you have.”

“I should get going. I — I need to get these flashcards to Chat Noir and I have to get my dress ready and —”

She was about to babble on about the waistcoat. Promptly, she shut up.

“Thank you,” Adrien said after the silence hung around for a moment. “You’re incredible.”

“Thank _you_. You’re really saving me from embarrassing myself in front of all of Paris.”

She climbed out the window before she melted at his compliments.

“Bug out!”

* * *

As soon as Ladybug left, Chat Noir transformed. He knew the flashcards by heart, had taken care to put them in his best handwriting and make them look pretty (or, at the very least, not to forget crossing the _t’s_ , which he tended to do). Still, he wanted to be considerate to Ladybug — she was anxious about all of this, and it wasn’t like Chat Noir had built up the considerate, mature reputation that Adrien had.

Pretty much as soon as he transformed, he received a call from Ladybug.

“Can you meet up with me?” she asked. “I have something for you.”

 _Wonder what it is_ , Plagg would say if he wasn’t transformed.

“Sure thing, Milady,” he said. “Where at?”

“Uh, Eiffel Tower? That’s the direction I’m already headed in.”

“I’ll be there A-S-A-P.”

She hung up and Chat made his way to the Eiffel Tower, careful not to go too fast just to be sure he wouldn’t catch up to her. By the time he got to the platform, she was there and pacing anxiously.

“Hey Bugaboo,” he said as he landed. “What’s up? Wanna get patrol done early?”

She stopped pacing as soon as she stepped in front of him. “Actually, I was hoping to skip patrol for today.” His face must have visibly fallen, because she immediately put her hands up. “Not that I don’t want to spend time with you, I’m just so busy especially with getting my dress together for this gala and I’m trying to learn the proper etiquette and —”

He smiled and grabbed her wrist to stop her from waving it further. “You’re fine,” he promised. “Don’t worry about it. I have my suit in order already, so I can patrol alone. You don’t need to worry about me.”

She stopped fidgeting in place, taking a breath and letting her neck go limp “Thank you. I’m stressed right now but knowing that you’re there makes it so much better.”

He smiled because she wasn’t looking.

“Oh, and one other thing.”

She broke her hand away from where he held it, reaching for her yoyo and grabbing something out of it — the flashcards.

“I have two sets of flashcards going over etiquette gala — one for you, one for me. Can you promise to go over it in your spare time? Maybe even while you’re on patrols?”

He grabbed the bundle from her hand and shuffled through the cards with his nail. “Easy peasy, Milady. I’ll have this memorized by tomorrow. Wait, no, I bet I can have it memorized by _tonight_.”

She rolled her eyes and bopped his nose. “Don’t flatter yourself, Kitty.”

By the time he was ready to say goodbye, she was gone.

* * *

Chat Noir went through with his promise to patrol without her. Usually the patrol was an excuse for them to spend time around each other, but he didn’t want to worry Ladybug more by not patrolling, and it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

Once he was done, he didn’t want to go home. He decided to visit Marinette again — she’d finished up the adjustments on his sleeves and pants the day before, but he needed to check up on the state of the waistcoat, didn’t he?

Tapping on her skylight, this time she didn’t even come up to open it. Just yelled, “It’s unlocked,” and waved him in. (He only heard because of his super hearing, but if it gets the job done.)

He jumped down to the floor and put his staff over his shoulders, casually draping his arm over that.

“I’m just finishing up with the waistcoat now,” she told him.

Marinette sat at her desk, a needle and thread in hand and a lime green piece of fabric in front of her on the table.

“You work fast, princess.” He walked over to her and stepped behind her, examining her work — she was sewing on a button.

“Like I said, four pieces of fabric.”

She tied the knot on the thread and handed it to him. “Try it on.”

He did.

“A little tight around the shoulders...”

“Really?” she asked, standing up and walking to his back to examine the work. Chat laughed, turning around before she could get a good look at it.

“No, not really. There’s nothing around the shoulders to be tight — maybe you’re not as good at this as I thought.”

They were face to fight, inches apart. Marinette didn’t angle her face upward but she did turn her eyes up to glare at him.

“For real, are there any adjustments I need to make?” She crouched down and examined his torso. “Maybe it’s a little loose here.... I could bring it in by cutting a line down the back and trimming some excess fabric. I was considering doing that anyway to make it look neater.”

“You don’t have to, it’s perfect,” he promised. “Beside, people will hardly be able to see it beneath the jacket.”

She stood up and walked toward her mannequin, where his suit was draped. “Okay, okay. Well, if this is all done, then I guess you can take your suit and go.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want the most rugged bachelor in Paris to keep you company?”

She sighed. “I have a lot to work on.”

“I can help!”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, can you?”

Her tone made him want to say, _Actually, no, I can’t_ , but what’s the worst that could happen?

“Try me.”

She rolled her eyes and took the suit off the mannequin, hanging it on the edge of her chaise lounge, then pulling the mannequin out to the middle of the room.

“I’m working on an outfit,” she said. “And I want to get it done quickly, but it’s gonna take a LOT of work.”

“What type of outfit?” he asked. Though he was a model, not a designer, he’d picked up things here and there.

“It’s a secret,” she said. “But maybe you can help.”

“Ooh, I do enjoy being privy to secrets. I know the identity of the most rugged bachelor in Paris, you know.”

She gave him a side eye. “And if you tell me, you’ll know the identity of the _former_ most rugged bachelor in Paris, so be careful.”

“Ah, so what you’re saying is you don’t want to tell me because that would take the excitement out of it. Absolutely understandable.”

She sighed and began to circle around the mannequin. When she passed Chat, he paced with her.

“I want to do something grand, but with the time I’m giving myself and the money I have, I don’t know if it’s possible. But should I sacrifice grandiosity for time?”

“Well, Ladybug would probably say otherwise, but I think you should go big or go home.”

She stopped in her tracks, face turned away from him.

“I need so much tulle for it... That’ll be so expensive, and I don’t really have the money for it.” They carried on with their pacing.

“You would if you let me pay you back for the work you did for me.”

She glared at him. “Not happening.”

“Would there be any way to cut down on the amount of tulle?”

“If I stack a couple petticoats on top of each other, then yeah, but it still needs a _lot_ of tulle.”

“How much?”

“At least a full bolt of fabric, probably two, maybe even three... it’s hard to say.”

“Well, what will you do if you decide to make something simpler?”

She stopped pacing. “I’m not sure.”

“It seems like you only really have one option, then.”

Even standing behind her, he saw her head nod. “Yeah, that makes sense. I guess I’ll just have to ask my parents for money to buy the fabric.”

“You need tulle?”

“Yeah, lots of it.”

“What color?”

“Chat, absolutely not.”

“It’s not payment. Consider it a... donation.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Oh but you _can_.”

She sighed. “I need white tulle.”

He smiled and got out his staff, extending it to the floor then rising to the bed. “I’ll see you next time, princess.”

She rolled her eyes. “Bye, Chat.”

He climbed out of the skylight and paused for a moment on the roof, just long enough to hear Marinette say to herself, “He didn’t even take his suit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally spent like half an hour researching ballet for some dialogue that is AT BEST thematically relevant but more realistically wildly self indulgent. Then I was late to class due to the time I spent researching.
> 
> Initially my train of thought was that putting the ladrien/marichat scenes in the civilian identity's perspective was more interesting because they're the ones who think they're aware of the dramatic irony but aren't actually, but I decided it was better to show all sides of the love square through all perspectives. I'm unsure of how I'm gonna work in Marinette's perspective in a Adrienette scene but I really want to.
> 
> Anyway if you didn't notice already, please take note of the changes I've made to the tags because they're very important.


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